


Whoops

by Major



Category: 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Nighttime, Undead, Zombie Joey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Major/pseuds/Major
Summary: Mr. Stratford's insurance doesn't cover PMS. It also doesn't cover killing the undead.





	Whoops

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prinzenhasserin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/gifts).



> :)

Joey Donner turned three weeks after the CDC warned of the zombie epidemic sweeping the country, and Kat killed him with a hardcover copy of _The Feminine Mystique_ when he tried to eat her.  Really, it was the trajectory they had been on since freshman year of high school.

It was amazing how quickly civilization had dissolved: phones were down, schools shut down, store shelves were emptied as people fled the city, officials went from collecting bodies to advising others to burn any of the undead they took out, to running away with everyone else.  Kat couldn't burn him, though…

Joey was sprawled in the empty parking lot behind her car.  The nearest lamppost was on the opposite side and kept the skull damage in the shadows, thankfully.  Patrick pulled in less than ten minutes after she messaged him over a walkie-talkie.  Apparently, _'Patrick, Joey tried to bite my arm, so I... took the liberty of... killing him, sort of'_ added a little weight to the foot he had on the gas pedal.

His door closed loudly, none of Joey's brain-hungry grunts interrupting the quiet night anymore, and Patrick came up to her side.  There was a stiffness to the moment, both of them examining the limp figure in the darkness whose face, even now, seemed to bear a certain smugness.  He was annoying, awful, deeply repellent in every sense, yeah—but she hadn't wanted him to die, un-die, and force her to make him die-die.

Finally, Patrick asked while turning to look at her, "He was a zombie when you whacked him, right?"

"Yes."  She hadn't killed him on a whim.  Despite any of the numerous threats over the years to do exactly that.

"Because if he wasn't, I'd totally understand.  It's Joey Donner.  If I met him in a dark parking lot one night, I'd whack him with a book too.  Any book.  The Bible, even.  I'll still help you get rid of him."

She hoped he helped her clean her car too, because Joey smacked into it on the way down.  If her dad's insurance didn't cover PMS, she was pretty sure the hazards of wrestling the undead were out.

"Patrick..."

He leaned in close with a nod.  "Did he insult The Raincoats' new album?"

The shock that kept her frozen in place waiting for him to get there began to melt around the edges.

"Were you meeting him here for a romantic tryst?  Is this a lovers' quarrel gone wrong?  I'm very hurt, Kat."

The corner of her lips twitched, and she was able to look at him, away from Joey.  "You managed to say the one thing more repulsive than the fact that there is gray matter smeared across Betty Friedan's name."

The bloodstained book had dropped near her feet when the scuffle ended.  Hardcovers were the only way to read in the zombie apocalypse.  You couldn't weaponize a paperback.

He cupped her face, eyebrows knitting together, as he told her, "I'm glad I'm officially the guy you call when you need to bury a body."

The sardonic smile in response couldn't have been repressed even by the numbing shock of finally beating on Joey the way that Ms. Perky always feared she might.

"Between this and the Fender Strat, I guess I owe you one."

"The pleasure of your company and burying a body in the woods?"  He got a grip on Joey's shoulders while Kat went for his feet.  "I think I owe _you_ a second Fender.  I hope my next girlfriend is this much fun."

"You won't find out if you keep talking while _this_ girlfriend is still within arm's reach of her 600-pages thick weapon."

"Carrying what remains of the last person that set off your temper, I think I'll shut up now."

He really was a good boyfriend when he wanted to be.


End file.
